


Xanadu

by cornelius



Series: Xanadu [1]
Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 23:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5225423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornelius/pseuds/cornelius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been fifteen years since she's seen Jareth, but now she needs him more than ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Xanadu

She looked past her face in the wooden-framed mirror, past the shelves that once held childhood treasures, past the walls posters on her walls, faded and torn, past the fields of flowers on the outdated wallpaper. 

She took a breath and mouthed the words she would need to say as her heart beat thundered in her ears. 

“Goblin King,” she started and then glanced over her shoulder instinctively. She was being watched--she could feel it. The storm outside her window calmed and the little noises in her room--the hum of the air conditioner, the whir of the hard drive in her laptop, the creaks of aging floorboards--cut out suddenly. The world held its breath, waiting for what she would say next.

“Goblin King,” she said again, feeling emboldened under that watchful, invisible gaze. But she paused again. It wasn’t the time to be bold--it was the time to be humble. 

“Jareth, I need you.”

The world started up again as soon as the last syllable was out of her mouth--she’d expected this. This was the procedure any time she’d called on her friends, though the tended to appear beside her in the mirror as sound and movement returned to her room.

The Goblin King--no, Jareth--made no such entrance.

She turned around in her chair. Maybe she’d missed him …

A clack sounded at her window and she jumped. A barn owl, untouched by the wind and the rain, sat on her windowsill and stared at her impatiently.

She scrambled to unhook the latch and throw open one side of the window. Despite her best efforts, he brought the storm in with him. By the time she got the window closed and latched again, her window seat was covered in rain and leaves from the tree just outside her room. Her jeans didn’t fare any better.

He turned once he was in the room, planting his hands on his hips, and he pinned her to orange cushion of her window seat with a simple look. He didn’t look too different from the last time she’d seen him--wearing grey breeches under leather knee-high boots, a loose white shirt and a black leather vest. He also wore a dark cloak, purposefully torn and ragged for effect. She, on the other hand, just looked ragged.

“I’m sorry.” The words burbled out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop them. His eyes widened the tiniest of fractions, but he said nothing. She closed her eyes and dropped her head into her hands. This was not going how she’d planned it.

She bit her lip and considered what to say next. She could start over--actually say _hello_ like a normal person--and give him her carefully prepared speech. 

Or she could continue her impromptu apology. Maybe he would respond better if she got that out of the way.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, “for how I treated you. It wasn’t fair--” she stopped and shook her head. She thought she saw the slightest twitch of the corner of his mouth, but she didn’t let that distract her. “I asked a lot of you and I didn’t even know what I was asking.”

 _You cowered before me. I was frightening_.The words echoed in her head. _Everything you wanted I have done._

“You _told_ me and I still didn’t see it,” she said, and an ironic smile twisted her lips. “How self-centered do you have to be to want a mystical villain to defeat _and_ a man to be hopelessly in love with you?”

He dropped his hands from his hips, and perched himself gracefully on the edge of her childhood bed. The bed springs creaked in protest as he crossed his legs, but he ignored the noise. He might no longer be standing so imposingly, but he still sat like a king--an immortal and _very_ powerful king. 

He kept his expression neutral--or at least his version of neutral, which on most people looked more like slightly disapproving and bored. But there was something about his eyes that didn’t match his haughty air and regal pose, something off that Sarah couldn’t quite name.

“What do you want, Sarah?” he asked with a put-upon sigh, any emotion disappearing from his eyes, “Or are you making amends for some twelve-step program?”

His insult hit its mark and she could feel the anger welling up inside her. She could see the fifteen year-old version of herself standing up and shouting and storming off. She recognized that he had meant to offend, so pushed her knee-jerk reaction aside and ignored his second question. “Toby’s gone and I don’t know who else to turn to.”

He sighed again. “Is this not what your _police_ are for? I am not responsible for _all_ missing children--”

“I know,” she said cutting him off. _I know that now,_ sat on the tip of her tongue, heavy and unsaid. “But lately, he’s been interested in …magic and _fairy_ things and I just want to eliminate the possibility--”

Jareth’s eyes darkened and he stood up in a flash. “You want to eliminate _me_ as a possibility,” he said as his voice lowered to dangerous levels. It was easy to pretend that Jareth was just another human she had to deal with, easy to forget what he could do to her with a snap of his fingers if provoked. Until moments like these.

“ _No_ ,” she said emphatically, “I’m not accusing you of anything. I just wanted to ask you to snoop around and see if he ended up in your world.” 

She felt her stomach drop as despair suddenly gripped her. What had she been _thinking_? What reason would Jareth help _her_? Not to mention the fact that his realm (from what she’d read in admittedly dubious sources) was immeasurably large. Even if Toby were there, what chance would she have at finding him?

And what if he wasn’t there?

“Sarah.” A voice spoke to her, firm and smooth and distant. A hand found a place between her shoulder blades, and its warm weight kept her from spiraling further out of control. Cool leather touched her forehead. She leaned into the touch. 

She opened her eyes and the mismatched eyes of the Goblin King filled her vision. These were the eyes of a man (or a creature?) that she didn’t know. She’d thought she’d known him, but all she’d known was the personality she’d created for him. The one he’d worn for her, easy to despise, easy to want to overcome, easy to dismiss as a villain from a story.

It’d taken her more than a decade, but she’d finally realized everything she thought she knew about him had just been filtered through the petulant desires of a fifteen year-old heart.

Of course, once she’d recognized this misconception for what it was, she’d never planned on telling him.

That was, until something happened to Toby …

“Oh God!” she cried, “Toby!” She felt like sobs were being wrenched from her chest, and tears followed their earlier paths down her cheeks.

He shushed her gently, the hand on her back moving in comforting circles.

“He’s a teenage boy, Sarah,” he said calmly, “He probably just ran off with some friends and will be back before you know it.”

She shook her head. “They don’t know where he is-- _no one_ knows where he is.”

She grabbed a handful of tissues from her vanity and inartfully wiped all the escaping fluids from her face. At one time, she would have been appalled at herself, letting this man (this creature) see her like this, weak, broken, lost…

Once her breathing returned to normal, she spoke again. “I just have a bad feeling about this,” she said, barely louder than a whisper. 

He didn’t react to her words, except for a hitch in his breathing. 

“I know I’m being selfish again,” she said, dropping her forehead onto his shoulder. The last time they’d been this close, they’d been dancing in a dream. It had been a world created to entrance and captivate her, a world made of her fantasies.

Now she was living her worst nightmare, but at least he wasn’t playing a role anymore.

“Please,” she said, “Jareth, I _need_ you to find Toby.”

He shoved her away and he was across the room in an instant.

“I am not your plaything, Sarah,” he spat, “I don’t exist to just fulfill your heart’s desires.”

“I know!” She stood, too. What had she said? What had changed?

He trembled with rage. She’d never seen him so out of control. “You may have bested my Labyrinth, but that doesn’t give you the right to act like I’m your subject to be ordered around--”

“I’m not--” Sarah ran a hand through her hair, looking for the right word. Her fingers got tangled in the unwashed strands of her chin-length bob, but she soldiered on. “I’m not _ordering_ you to do anything. I’m _asking_. You’re my last hope.”

He deflated a little. It had seemed when he’d been angry, a small wind had been conjured to make his cloak billow out behind him. That wind died and it was his turn to drop his head in a hand.

“You _did_ order me,” he said, weariness in his voice.

 _Say your right words_. The words popped into her mind unbidden. What _right words_ had she said to make him react so? 

She’d said his name. And _Need_. She’d said _I need_.

“I’m sorry,” she said and the words hung in the air between them. “I didn’t mean to--”

He laughed--chuckled really--though there was no mirth to it. “You never _mean_ to.”

“I didn’t know,” she tried again.

He clucked his tongue. “Sarah, Sarah, are you really going to use that excuse your _whole_ life?”

The anger from earlier came back in a flash. They hadn’t spoken in fifteen years and she’d changed considerably from the selfish, sulky teen. How dare he still judge her by those old standards.

But it was true, wasn’t it? She _was_ making the same mistakes all over again. 

“I’m--”

“Sorry?” he asked, raising his eyebrows in a challenge.

“Yeah,” she said sheepishly, “I _am_ sorry. You don’t have to help me. I don’t need you to do anything for me.” He flinched at the word _need_ , but she kept on talking while she still had the energy to do so. “You can do whatever you want, but I was hoping--since you cared about Toby once--that you’d help me.”

He sighed and brushed some lint off his vest. He was back to being the otherworldly king. “How long has he been gone?”

“Three days.”

“In your world,” he said thoughtfully, “If he really is in the Underground, it could be much longer.” 

He paced the small room, lost in thought. Sarah had to step out of his way twice before he spoke again.

“I’ll do what I can,” he said finally, “But I make no promises.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. “Of course. Thank you.” 

“Don't thank me.” He wagged a gloved finger at her. “If I do this, you will owe me. And don't think I won't come to collect.”

With that, he threw open the windows and disappeared in a burst of magic. She heard the screech of barn owl and a clap of thunder before she could get the windows shut. 

###

The grass was soft under her bare feet, and though she had been walking some time, not a stray pebble, root or grass-dwelling animal fell under her stride. Her dress swished in time with the soft breeze and gentle babble of the river. Trees bloomed overhead, and from their blossoms came fragrant incense. Bushes with fat, red berries enticed her from across the narrowest part of the river, and she could almost taste their sweetness.

A structure in the distance grew in size as she got closer and closer, the gilded and lacquered dome winked and glowed in the twilight. 

She kept walking toward it, though she wasn’t sure if she could stop if she tried. She _had_ to go to that palace, whatever it was. Something--no _someone_ \--waited for her there.

She stopped when she saw a small red book--leather-bound, well-worn, and achingly familiar--in the grass ahead. She picked it up and it felt so natural to be back in her hands. When she turned it over, however, instead of the expected title, it read _Xanadu_ under the dark scrollwork.

 _Xanadu_? She furrowed her brows and opened the book. She tried to read the words, but they moved and changed, and she gave up trying. 

She put the book in her leather satchel--when did she get that?--and kept on her journey. She only stopped again when she felt like she couldn’t walk any further. She tried to move her legs, but they wouldn’t budge, so she peered into the stately palace.

The side that faced the river was thrown open and whatever party that was happening inside, spilled out into the lantern-lit twilight. She watched a young man escort a whole cadre of young women to a group of low backed couches arranged on the lawn. They surrounded him and doted on him, feeding him honeydew and pouring him tall glasses of milk.

She felt like she was missing something--something painfully obvious--but she couldn’t get her mind to put the pieces together. The youth looked _so_ familiar …

Sarah heard ringing in her ears as it all came together. 

_It’s a collection of Samuel Taylor Coleridge poems_ , she’d said as she’d given him the paperback, _I’m teaching a seminar on nineteenth century Romanticism and we’re starting with_ Kubla Khan.

She’d watched him thumb through the poems, finding the one she’d mentioned.

 _‘In Xanadu did Kubla Khan a stately pleasure dome decree’?_ he’d asked skeptically, _Tell me it gets better_.

She’d chuckled and promised him that it did. Weeks later she’d found him with an anthology of literary criticism from her office. At the time, she couldn’t help but smile as she’d hooked Toby on poetry.

Toby! 

Now, her blood ran cold as she recognized the landmarks of Coleridge’s Xanadu. She pulled the book out of her satchel and looked at it in disbelief. It wasn’t her book, the one she’d acted out in the park. And it also wasn’t the book she’d given Toby.

She tried to move her feet again, but it was like her brain wasn’t connected to the lower half of her body. She reached down and tried to pull a leg up, but she might’ve had more luck trying to move a statue.

“I gave him his dreams,” a voice said next to her and she whipped her head around to face the newcomer. She was tall and willowy, dark and beautiful in an otherworldly way. She wore a dress like Sarah’s--and, Sarah realized belatedly, like the women’s at the party, too--long and white and toga-like. Her eyes were sharp and they seemed to cut Sarah with their amber gaze. “Not particularly innovative, I admit, but what can you expect from a teenage boy?”

“Who are you?” Sarah asked, and felt silly for asking. Words had power here, _names_ had power, and this woman wasn’t about to hand hers over.

She smiled, her teeth glinting white despite the darkness. “I’m the one who gave him what he wanted.” She turned to watch Toby in the shifting light of the lanterns. Even if she started jumping around, Sarah doubted Toby would be able to see them. The lanterns would ruin his night vision, and they were just too far away.

“Toby!” she shouted instead, “It’s not _real_!” Toby furrowed his brows as if he were trying to remember something that had just slipped away. Then, the music from inside the palace swelled and he followed one of the women inside to dance.

“Tsk-tsk,” the woman said, “It’s not time for him to wake up yet.”

A bird screeched overhead and then a new figure approached them.

“And when would that time be?” Jareth asked, his voice carrying over several yards. For a moment, Sarah only recognized him by his voice, his features shifting in the last of day’s light.

“Sarah?” he asked as he reached her, standing between her and the woman, “what are you doing here?”

Sarah opened her mouth to speak, but the woman spoke before Sarah had the chance.

“So nice of you to join us, Jareth,” she said, “I was hoping you wouldn’t be _too_ much longer.”

“Return the boy to his family,” Jareth said in a tone that brooked no argument. Sarah thought there might have been a name at the end of his statement, but it sat on the tip of her tongue, just out of reach. 

The woman just laughed airily at Jareth’s command. “I’d be happy too,” she said placatingly, “As soon as you sign the treaty.”

Jareth growled, feral and dangerous, and so wild. She’d never seen him like this. 

“So, this is why you took the boy?”

“How else was I supposed to get your attention?” she asked with a shake of her head, “If I remember correctly, you had designs on him to be your heir at one point.”

Sarah’s eyes widened in shock; she’d had no idea. She turned to look at Jareth, to see if this were true, but he paid her no attention. 

“I won’t sign it,” he said vehemently.

She shrugged. “Then the boy stays here.”

“Fine.”

Sarah’s heart plummeted. She’d just found Toby and she was going to lose him again. And all due to some politics neither she nor Toby had had any part of.

Jareth took her hands in his and looked into her eyes. “Sarah I cannot endanger my kingdom’s sovereignty for the sake of one human.”

Tears filled her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. Logically, she understood what was happening, and she understood that this was not something she could ask him to do. But her heart still ached and she still wanted to demand he just sign the damn treaty.

She just nodded absently instead.

The woman started to walk away, but desperation forced an idea into Sarah’s head. Sarah stopped her with a shout, “Wait!”

The woman turned, smirking over her shoulder like she knew she’d won.

“Sarah--” Jareth warned, his voice low and rough.

“Will you negotiate?” she asked both of them, but her eyes didn’t leave Jareth’s. The woman shrugged in Sarah’s peripheral vision, but Jareth stared at her silently.

“I won’t let her take advantage of me,” he said, “If we can’t reach an agreement that doesn’t hurt my kingdom or my citizens--

“I understand,” she said, pitched for Jareth’s ears only, “But I have to try _something_. It’s my fault Toby even came to the Underground in the first place.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” the woman interjected and Sarah’s heart raced. “You didn’t just _happen_ upon that book accidentally; Jareth sent it to you.”

Jareth shot the woman a vicious look but the damage was done. Question after question filled Sarah’s mind and she needed answers to everyone of them. She needed--

She could compel him to answer her, now that she knew how to do it. She could make him talk until his tongue dried up and his every word wrenched out of him would feel like sandpaper as it scraped its way out of his throat.

She had the power. 

But his eyes stopped her. They were the same eyes she’d seen in her bedroom, the same look he’d given her at the center of Labyrinth.

 _You have no power over me_ , she’d said and his eyes had changed. Disappointment? Hurt? What was it?

Sarah closed her eyes and took a deep breath. There was no time to dwell on the past. “Okay, I accept your terms Jareth.”

She put out her hand, and he shook it. He called the woman’s name, but again, it seemed to pass straight through Sarah’s head. “We’ll talk,” he said and vanished.

Sarah turned to look at the woman, but she was gone too. She caught one last glimpse of Toby, sitting with a young girl on the edge of a fountain, before she woke up and she was gone too.

###

_Waiting for the world to end, weary of the night_

_Praying for the light_

_Prison of the lost_

_Xanadu_

_Xanadu..._

Sarah hit the snooze button on her clock radio and the song cut off abruptly. She stared up at the orange canopy above her childhood bed, faded and dusty, as she filtered through the details of her dream.

First of all, Toby was still in danger, but at least she knew where he was. 

Secondly, as long as Jareth held up his end of the bargain, there was a chance that Toby could be saved.

And finally, Jareth had lied to her. 

She sat up in the bed with a jolt. Anger burned through her anew and she threw off her blankets and stood in the middle of her room.

“Jareth,” she hissed, “I know you can hear me when I say your fucking name, so listen up.”

A bird outside her window stopped singing and she knew she had his attention. She kept her voice quiet enough that her dad or stepmom wouldn’t hear if they walked by, but she would have shouted if she were alone.

“You _manipulated_ me. You manipulated _my family_. And then you let me _apologize to you_ …” she balled her hands into fists and trembled. “What was any of it to you?”

“A game,” he said matter-of-factly from where he leaned against her doorway, “And one that I was supposed to win.” 

She whipped around to face him. He didn’t look smug or self-confident, like she was expecting, but seeing him still made her blood boil. 

“Why me? Why did you pick me?” she asked and he shrugged.

“You were a bratty teenager and I wanted the baby.”

She felt a blush travel up from her collar to her face. She had been so stupid. It had never been about _her_. She could have been anyone. And then she’d thought he’d loved her …

“Why Toby then? And what would’ve happened if I’d lost?”

“Toby is special,” he said, “And you would have been sent home with a changeling with no memory of running my Labyrinth.”

She gasped, but pushed her shock aside. She could be surprised later. She needed answers now. 

“What does ‘special’ mean? I can make you tell me!” 

He narrowed his eyes at her and she felt vindictive and petty. For an instant she felt guilty, but then she remembered what the woman’d told her in the dream.

_You didn’t just happen upon that book accidentally; Jareth sent it to you._

She stared back at him, hoping she looked as intimidating in her too-short flannel pajama bottoms as he did in his kingly finest. 

He sighed and looked away. “He was born with stronger ties to my realm than yours. He could learn how to use magic, if he wanted. He would have been a perfect heir, if you hadn’t gotten in the way.”

He looked at her and raised one perfect eyebrow. Sarah wanted to punch him-- _hard_. 

“Trust me, that’s a compliment to you,” he said, obviously sensing her anger, “Most never even figure out how to get the damn doors open, let alone make it remotely near the center.”

His face shifted and Sarah wondered for a second if she caught awe or pride in his small grin. “Toby was special by birth and you, by choice. That is not something to take lightly, Sarah.”

She blushed at his hard won approval. The closest she’d ever heard him get to compliment before was mild rebuke.

“So,” she started warily, “You don’t hate me?”

“Hate you?” He laughed at her. It was the kind of laugh that would have anyone else doubled over, clutching at their stomach and wiping tears from their eyes. 

What little pride she had felt at his compliment disappeared. 

“What reason would I have to hate you?” he asked over the last peals of his laughter.

“I bested you. I won Toby back,” she said, fumbling.

He gestured to the ancient chess board on her dresser. “When you play chess, do you hate your opponent when they win?”

“No--”

“There is no difference to me.”

“But I know your name,” she added, “I have power over you.”

“And I know yours,” he countered.

She stomped her foot and immediately cursed herself for doing it. He laughed again and she fumbled for words. But he spoke before she could think of what to say.

“Do you hate me?” he asked softly. He actually seemed unsure, and that alone startled Sarah.

But then his question sunk in. Did she hate him? Did she ever _hate_ him? His eyes pleaded her for _something_ but she had no idea what answer he was asking her for.

“I don’t think hate is the right word,” she started slowly, frowning, “I think I was afraid of you once, and sometimes I think I might still be. And I never know if I’m saying the right thing to you, which makes me worry you’ll use my words against me.”

He shrugged as if to say, _fair point_.

“And I’m still mad that you manipulated me.”

He shrugged again and she felt she should say something more, but her mind was blank. Their eyes met and they seemed to come to an understanding of each other. For once, she felt like she was on equal footing with him, and it was a heady feeling. _She_ , a grief-stricken, thirty year-old English poetry professor, and _him_ , the immortal and vastly powerful Goblin King. _Equals_.

A shriek broke the spell of the moment. “Toby!” Sarah’s step-mother shouted and Sarah’s heart began to beat faster.

“Toby? Does that mean--?”

“We struck a deal,” he said. His face had slipped back to his neutral expression and Sarah missed being able to read his emotions even if she didn’t completely grasp their meanings.

“Go be with your family,” he urged her, “I will see you again. Soon.”

“Soon?” she asked, pulling a comb through her sleep-mussed hair.

“You owe me, Sarah Williams, and I will be back to collect.”

He left with a snap of his fingers and she reeled from his sudden disappearance.

Pounding footsteps passed her door--probably her father--and she was pulled back to the situation at home. 

Toby was back! And she had to see him, talk to him, figure out what he remembered and what he dismissed as a crazy, beautiful dream. That conversation would, of course, come after the family reunion and meeting with the police, when they could talk in private.

Would she tell him what happened? Would she tell him who was involved? Would she tell him what she promised to ensure his return?

She shuddered at the thought of Jareth’s last words.

_You owe me, Sarah Williams._

It was never good to owe a fae a favor. Every piece of literature she’d ever read on fairies said so. And now she had a debt to a king.

So much for equals.


End file.
